


Matchmaking for Dummies

by morganoconner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Humor, M/M, Matchmaking, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 05:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It starts with an angel waking up in Sam’s bed…</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matchmaking for Dummies

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://frayed1989.livejournal.com/profile)[**frayed1989**](http://frayed1989.livejournal.com/) for the [](http://deancastiel.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://deancastiel.livejournal.com/)**deancastiel** Secret Angels III exchange.

It starts with an angel waking up in Sam's bed.

How this happens is anyone's guess, for three reasons. One, Sam does not allow anyone into his bed, not since Ruby, and definitely not anyone of the non-human persuasion. Two, to the best of his knowledge, angels don't sleep, not even this angel, who is maybe a little more human than most. And three, this particular angel belongs to Sam's brother, no matter that both of them are too stupid to admit it to themselves or each other.

So really, Sam can't be blamed for being just a tiny bit confused when he opens his eyes and finds himself face-to-face with a peacefully-sleeping Castiel, who has somehow wrapped himself around Sam and is clinging to him like he's a giant teddy bear.

He tries to extract himself gently, wriggling a little to try and loosen Castiel's arms, but all he succeeds in doing is making the angel cling tighter. He stills in defeat, deciding that he'll simply have to wait for Castiel to wake up. However long that takes.

…

Not long, as it turns out, because less than a minute later the door to the motel room opens, and Castiel’s eyes fly wide open at the same time as Sam’s slide shut. Because only one other person has a key to this room. And this…this is not going to make him happy.

All is silent for a long moment, and Sam doesn’t want to picture the look he knows is crossing Dean’s face as he takes in the scene, nor does he want to picture the look on Castiel’s. The arms wrapped around him have gone slack with shock, but before Sam can pull away, before he can try to come up with a reasonable explanation for all of this, the motel room door slams shut again, his brother having gone right back out the way he came in.

Sam chances opening one eye and peers at Castiel. “So, umm…good morning?”

Castiel is too busy staring mournfully at the door to reply.

~*~

They discover what the real issue is only a few moments later when Sam hastily disentangles himself from Castiel and stands. He moves toward his duffle, intent on getting real clothes on - something besides the boxers and undershirt that counted as pajamas last night - as quickly as possible so that they can sit and discuss what happened last night like two rational beings with minimal awkwardness.

He’s about a foot away from the bag, and only three feet away from the bed, when he suddenly finds himself pressed against an invisible barrier…a solid wall made of nothing but air. “Uh…”

“Sam? What is it?” Castiel asks from where he’s now standing on the other side of the bed, rearranging his coat and tie.

“I…can’t seem to move,” Sam replies, pressing a hand against the barrier. It doesn’t give an inch, but there’s _nothing under his hand_. He just can’t press it forward. At all. _What the hell?_

He turns to look at Castiel, his eyes wide, and the angel steps toward him. The second he does, Sam’s hand suddenly shoots forward. He pulls back quickly before he can topple over, and both man and angel stand frozen, staring at each other.

“This…may pose a problem,” Castiel finally says after a moment. He tries to back up, and only makes it a step before he’s forced to stop, his way blocked by another barrier.

Sam takes a few steps toward him, and Castiel manages three more steps back.

 _Oh, for fuck’s sake,_ Sam thinks, closing his eyes. Because things are suddenly looking a little bit more clear.

This _reeks_ of Gabriel.

~*~

Seven feet. That’s the limit, that’s how far away he can move from Castiel. He guesses he should just be grateful they can separate at all, because Gabriel does have a twisted sense of humor, and Sam’s discovered lots of different sides of it over the past few months that the archangel has been helping them.

But this is just ridiculous. And Sam knows – knows beyond the shadow of a doubt – that this is Dean’s fault. He throws Bitchface #16 at the door, and only wishes Dean would walk through it at that moment so he would see it.

Dean doesn’t walk through the door, and Sam’s face falls into a moping expression as he sighs. “So what are we supposed to do?” he asks. “I don’t suppose you have any way of easily reaching Gabriel right at this moment and making him fix this?”

Castiel shakes his head wearily from where he is perched at the very edge of the bed. Sam sits across from him on Dean’s bed, and they’re both uncomfortably aware of the pressure at their backs when they try to lean back even just slightly. The beds are almost exactly seven feet apart, and Sam can’t help but wonder if that was somehow deliberate on Gabriel’s part.

He plans to have some serious words with the archangel the next time he shows his face.

They’ve also discovered that Castiel is grounded until Gabriel removes whatever he did to cause this. He tried to mojo himself away from Sam, and developed a headache and a rather nasty nosebleed for his efforts.

 _Serious_ words, indeed.

“Well look,” Sam says after another few moments of awkward silence. “We can’t just stay here all day; we have no _idea_ when Gabriel is going to come back and undo this, and we’re on a hunt.”

Castiel’s head tilts to the side. “Are you suggesting we go out and work around this…unfortunate situation?”

“Yes!” Sam shouts, throwing his hands up. “I’m _already_ going stir-crazy here! Which is probably what Gabriel wanted in the first place, because he’s _evil_. I can’t stay in this room all day Cas, seriously.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to conduct the research you were planning at the library,” Castiel allows. “And certainly Gabriel will know where to find us. Likely, he’s close by as it is, watching to see how we handle this. Though what the purpose of this condition is, I can only speculate.”

Sam glowers at the door again. “I could probably hazard a few guesses,” he mutters, but ignores the questioning gaze the angel directs at him.

~*~

Luckily, the library isn’t far from the motel, so they’re able to walk despite the chilly wind whipping around, because Dean had taken the Impala when he left. They walk side-by-side, carefully not touching each other after the embarrassment that still lingers from waking up that morning.

The library itself is small and nearly deserted, which is good in Sam’s opinion, because Cas can do nothing but follow behind him as he scours the shelves for the books he needs on the history of the town, and to an outside observer, it would probably look a little bit pathetic.

They sit down at one of the square tables with the pile of books in between them. Sam is digging out his laptop and reaching for a book at the same time, and he starts when he feels his hand brush Castiel’s, who was reaching for the same book. They stare at each other with wide eyes, and that’s when he hears the choking sound coming from the front door.

Because he can’t very well bash his head on the desk in front of him without fear of a concussion, Sam instead turns very slowly to face Dean, who’s staring at their hands on the book as though they’ve suddenly turned purple and polka-dotted, or grown teeth, or something. His mouth opens and closes a few times, and before Sam can so much as call out to him, he’s spun around and _flown_ out of the library and down the front steps.

On the other side of the table, Sam hears Castiel’s tiny whimper.

~*~

Sam tries calling Dean several times throughout the morning, but he never picks up, and all of Sam’s texts go unanswered as well, which probably means that Dean isn’t even reading them, the stubborn jackass. Castiel gets progressively more depressed, and dealing with a moping angel isn’t something Sam has ever been in any way prepared for.

He curses Gabriel a lot. And while the archangel never actually responds, Sam swears he can hear his mocking laughter ringing in his ears more than once.

The next incident happens just after lunch. Castiel accompanies Sam to the diner because he clearly has no choice, but he sits silent and with his head bowed while the hunter scarfs down a quick salad and tries to figure out what to do next. He had been hoping to get some interviews in today, but it doesn’t seem to be a likely option while he’s tethered to Castiel.

He stands up with a sigh and is just making his way over to the trash receptacle when he slams into the damn invisible wall. He looks back at Castiel. Measures the distance with his eyes.

Five feet.

The sound he makes as he shoves at the wall in frustration might be a growl, but it’s when the wall shoves _back_ that the growl turns into something that sounds a little like “ _meep!_ ” He flies backwards, would almost definitely land on his ass except that there’s suddenly a warm body pressed up against his back, arms wrapped around his waist to hold him steady.

He would turn to thank Castiel for sparing him a new collection of bruises, except that the door to the diner has opened at that exact moment, and Dean’s wide green eyes are cutting through him like laser beams.

“Seriously?” the eldest Winchester says, gaping. “ _Seriously?_ ”

And then, because that’s the way this entire day seems destined to go, he’s gone before Sam can so much as open his mouth to say a word.

Sam realizes abruptly that he’s going to have a bruise where Castiel’s hand has clenched so tightly.

~*~

They don’t see Dean for the rest of the day. Castiel is all but silent, and when it gets to be four thirty in the afternoon, and five feet suddenly becomes four, Sam gives up altogether on making any progress on this hunt and drags the angel back to the motel. He’s in desperate need of a beer, and then he plans on yelling for Gabriel until his voice gives out if he has to.

It’s with some surprise and no small amount of relief that the Impala is in the parking lot when they get back. Sam nudges Castiel. “We’ll talk to him, okay? He’s gonna understand.”

“Of course, Sam,” Castiel replies. He sounds like he doesn’t believe it at all, but it’s more words than he’s spoken in the past two hours, so Sam’s counting it as a victory.

“If anything, when he finds out it’s Gabriel causing all of this, he’s either going to laugh until he keels over, or he’s going to find a way to blame me.”

Castiel doesn’t even bother replying this time, and the hunter quickens his pace across the parking lot, eager to get this sorted out already.

When they walk into the room and Dean is slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder, Sam realizes he’s going to have a harder time of this than he thought. Dean’s expression is closed off entirely, and he looks like hell. Sam wants to pin the blame on Dean’s own idiocy – if he’d just bother checking his _phone_ once in a while, or, hell, if he’d manned up and admitted his feelings for Castiel _months_ ago – but it’s been a long time since he’s seen Dean look this bad, and all he wants is to wipe the expression from his face.

Dean stops dead at the sight of them, but his blank expression doesn’t change. He’s standing near Sam’s bed, so Sam goes over and sits down, which puts Castiel by default right where he likes to be: Dean’s personal space.

“Where you off to, dude?” Sam asks, tugging his boots off. Pretending nothing is wrong to start might be the simplest way of easing into this whole conversation.

Dean is tense and looking anywhere but at the angel who is standing a foot in front of him with his hands clasped behind his back, staring at the ground like it holds the secrets to the universe. “Thought I’d take some initiative and get my own room for the night,” he finally mutters, shifting the bag to his other shoulder.

Sam winces. “Dean, look, whatever you think, it’s totally -”

Dean cuts him off. “Whatever Sam, it’s fine. If you and Cas wanna have a…thing, it’s okay by me. Two nerdy dudes like you, I probably should have expected it. But don’t – _mmph!_ ”

Wide-eyed and gaping, Sam watches as Castiel practically tackles Dean, surging forward and grasping Dean’s hips to pull the hunter into him, slotting his mouth to Dean’s like it’s something he’s done a thousand times before, drawing out noises Sam is sure he _never_ wants to hear his brother make again, ever, as long as he lives.

He’s just getting ready to shove his face into a pillow and start humming loudly when he hears a different sound, this one familiar, and both welcome and exasperating at the same time.

_Snap._

Suddenly, he’s in an unfamiliar room, and instead of trying to block the sight of his brother and his brother’s angel…umm, working out their issues, he’s staring into the laughing eyes of an _arch_ angel.

“’Sup, Sammy.”

He glares.

“Oh, c’mon!” Gabriel says, sitting on the bed behind him and leaning back on his hands. “You have to give me a _little_ credit here. Nothing’s gonna get to Dean like some good old fashioned jealousy.”

Sam sighs and rolls his eyes. “You know, when we talked about ways to get them _finally_ together, that really wasn’t what I had in mind. Your brother can _mope_ , he could make it an Olympic sport! And now we’re behind on this hunt thanks to you.”

Gabriel waves a hand. “Nothing to hunt, Dean and I took care of the ghost this afternoon. He had some…ah, _frustration_ to work out.” He waggles his eyebrows with a smirk, and Sam mentally slaps a hand to his face.

“Not really the point. Did you have to get _me_ involved? Really?”

The archangel looks like he’s considering the question, before giving a bright smile and a nod. “Yep. Definitely.”

Another eyeroll, but Sam is fighting a smile against his better judgment. “All right, all right. I guess it was pretty good. You definitely know which of Dean’s buttons to push. And hell, it’s about damn time _something_ got through to him.”

Gabriel looks ridiculously pleased with himself, and Sam would worry except that he’s about to be too occupied to think of much besides what Gabriel’s considering doing with his mouth.

~*~

It starts with an angel waking up in Sam's bed.

It ends with that angel in a very different bed, and with Sam entertaining certain thoughts of a very different angel.

But at least in the end, everyone is happy.

-  



End file.
